


Dropped

by itsfaberrytaboo (orphan_account)



Series: Wide Green Eyes [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Age Play, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Bathing/Washing, Bigs and littles are known, Brief Mention of Bobbi Morse/Jemma Simmons, Diapers, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Laura Barton is a good bro, Maria needs a hug, Natasha Needs a Hug, Non-Sexual Age Play, Pacifiers, Wetting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-16
Updated: 2016-04-16
Packaged: 2018-06-02 14:17:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6569602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/itsfaberrytaboo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maria Hill, the workaholic commander who had never had a mother, or a father who loved her, always expected to be a Little. Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow who’d lost her childhood and could never be a mother, long ago resolved to trust no one but herself.</p><p>It’s funny how life never goes according to plan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dropped

**Author's Note:**

> I'm very nervous to post this, as I've never written an ageplay fic where the characters identify as this little before. But I've been wanting to try to get out of my comfort one and try something new, so here it is. I hope everyone enjoys it.
> 
> **This is not part of the Color the Sky 'verse or series.**

The roads were too damn long and too damn windy, and it was taking her for-damn-ever to get where she needed to be.

_“We’ve got a problem. Something’s up with Romanoff.”_

Maria wasn’t the type to be easily rattled. She couldn’t have gotten through the military, risen through the ranks of SHIELD, become its director after the fall, if at the first sign of trouble she fell apart. And she wasn’t falling apart as she drove the car through the back roads that would get her to Clint’s farm, but she was going about twenty miles over the speed limit. Her fingers tapped a staccato of worry against the steering wheel, and that in itself was different.

Maria worried about her team, sure. She worried about Cap, going through a life seventy years after his first one ended. She worried about Tony blowing himself up trying to invent something, worried about Clint’s hearing, worried about every agent whose names she didn’t even know, because they were hers.

But. _But_ , if Clint had called her in the middle of the night and said something was up with Steve, Maria would’ve rolled back over in bed and grumbled that couldn’t it wait until morning? She would’ve eventually gotten up, sure, but it would’ve taken longer than it did with the mention of _that_ last name.

It was different, with Natasha.

Different enough that Maria’s feet had hit the cold floor of her bedroom almost before Clint had finished getting the name out. She pulled on her shoes and just a jacket over her shirt and pajama pants, and headed out of the Tower.

And now she was driving sixty miles an hour down a dirt road, and wondering why Clint had decided to call her instead of one of Nat’s other friends. Surely someone who knew Natasha better, like Cap or Clint himself, would be able to deal with… whatever it was, a lot better than Maria.

But it didn’t matter, as she finally pulled the car into the drive just in front of the Barton homestead. She’d only been there a few times before, but the house had a way of giving Maria a sense of peace even as she worried about what was going on inside. She loved the city and could never see herself living out on a farm, but she could understand why someone, why Clint, would.

It was the last place anyone would think monsters would show up.

Maria knocked on the door softly, since it was past midnight and there was only one light on in the house, on the top floor. Lila and the rest of the Barton children would be asleep, and Maria didn’t want to frighten them, especially baby Nathaniel.

The door creaked open seconds later, and Clint stood just inside, still in his tac suit.

“Long night?” Maria said, moving into the living room when Clint stepped aside.

“You could say that,” Clint signed at her. He looked exhausted, and Maria sighed.

She hated her job when it meant keeping her friends from their families, keeping them worn out from having to fight the things that went bump in the night.

“When’d you get in?”

“About an hour ago.”

“Where’s Laura?” The house was quiet, with no indication that anything at all other than a quiet, peaceful night was happening.

“Upstairs with Nat.”

That was the light that had been on, then. Maria didn’t hear anything coming from one of the guest bedrooms, but she also assumed Laura would have the door closed, not wanting to alarm her children. She glanced back at Clint.

“Did the op not go well?”

Missions in Russia usually never did, she thought. They’d had one or two successful ones, but lately, ever since SHIELD had fallen, all of their intel coming from that country had been a bust. She especially hated it that Natasha insisted on going on nearly all the ops to Russia. A few times Maria had refused, and _that_ had never gone over well. It had gotten to the point that letting Natasha go on whatever ops she wanted was a lot easier than arguing with her.

“Actually yeah, it did,” Clint signed. He walked into the kitchen and pulled out two cokes from the fridge, offering one to Maria. She took it and drank gratefully. “We followed the lead and it took us straight to her.”

Her. A Black Widow on her own op, that SHIELD needed to intercept before it could be carried out. Maria had tried to once again block Natasha from going, attempting to assign her to some busy work in Washington. Maria had looked up the first few words that Natasha had said to her in Russian, and that had been enough to tell her she was better off not knowing.

“But?”

There was always a _but_. There had to be a _but_ , or Laura Barton wouldn’t be upstairs with Natasha, and Clint wouldn’t look so dead-tired and confused.

“But it was Natasha’s old trainer.”

“Son of a bitch!” Maria said, wincing when Clint raised a warning hand at her. They were quiet for a few minutes, but when the house was still quiet, Maria spoke again.

“Her old trainer?” she said in a low, heated whisper. “We didn’t have any indication it would be her… I thought she would’ve been long gone by now.”

Clint gave a half-shrug of one shoulder. “Guess not. We walk into the place and there she is, and she sees Nat and… I don’t know, Hill, she _grinned_. Said something in Russian, and Nat just froze.”

Maria rubbed her hand over her forehead. “Damn it. Then what?”

Clint drained his coke and tossed the bottle into the trash can.

“I’ve never seen two people fight like that, Commander. I’ve never seen _Nat_ fight like that.”

“You don’t get to be a Black Widow if you can’t fight like Natasha. And this fight was personal.”

“This was as personal as it gets.”

“Well, you two are here,” Maria said, glancing up the stairs again. She’d thought she heard a whimper, but the house was still eerily quiet. Must’ve been her imagination, she figured.

“You’re alive, so…”

“We neutralized the threat,” Clint said coolly.

Maria nodded, somewhat relieved. It would’ve been better if the trainer could’ve been brought in for questioning. Not that she would’ve told anything, most likely; obviously she would’ve been “made” to withstand any sort of interrogation. But they might have been able to get _something_ useful out of her. But the idea of Natasha Romanoff coming face to face with one of the people most responsible for making her into a Black Widow was enough for Maria to be glad that she’d never have the chance to do the same thing to another little girl.

“I can see why Natasha would be upset.”

“Yeah, it’s more than that. It’s… a lot more.”

She looked at Clint, who was now perched on top of the counter like some awkward, uncomfortable little bird. Maria eyed him cautiously.

“How much more?”

“We got to the jet after, headed back. Everything was fine, I’m joking with Natasha, things are good. We hit a little turbulence so I’m quiet for a few, and when I turn around Nat’s… well. She was dropping.”

Maria stared. “Dropping?”

“Hill, she’s little.”

She scoffed. She couldn’t help it, the idea was so ludicrous that Maria Hill actually scoffed and took a step back.

“Sure, Natasha Romanoff is little,” she said, rolling her eyes. “And I’m Hydra. Did you drag me out of bed and make me drive all the way out here just for this joke?” She turned to throw away her bottle, but was jerked back around by Clint, now signing furiously at her.

“This isn’t a joke, you ought to know I wouldn’t joke about that. I look over and she’s on the floor in the jet, chewing on her fingers and crying. And she wet herself. She’s turned little.”

“You don’t just _turn_ little, Clint,” Maria said. “ _You_ ought to know that.”

Everyone knew that Clint was little, just like everyone knew that Tony was little and everyone knew that Steve was angry, because it didn’t matter if he was little or big.

“My chance is either dead or in their nineties,” he’d once said, bitterly, to Maria.

She’d be angry, too, Maria thought, if she’d been brought back to life while her soulmate had stayed in the past.

“I know,” Clint said, his gaze fastened on Maria.

“So you’re saying…”

“I’m saying she didn’t know she was. Or buried it. Or had it buried by someone else.” The Red Room was notorious for erasing their protégés’ memories, and the very idea of it made Maria sick.

“And seeing her old trainer sparked it,” Maria said slowly. Clint nodded.

“She won’t let any of us help her. I had to carry her into the house. I tried to change her and she screamed. Laura’s tried to change her, to talk to her, but all she does is curl up in a ball and cry.”

“I don’t know why you think I can help, I’m little too.”

Clint was looking at her oddly, in a way that Maria wasn’t sure she liked. She was pretty sure she didn’t, but he just shrugged at her again.

“You’re still the director. Maybe your authority’ll snap her into listening. Or if you’re little too maybe you can show her it’s safe to trust us. I don’t know. All I know is she needs somebody. Anybody. And so far it hasn’t been me or Laura.”

 Maria sighed again. She briefly entertained telling Clint that she hadn’t signed up for this. She had too much work to do. There were always reports to be made, politicians to pacify, worlds to defend from aliens and maniacal gods. She had no time to try to comfort a little, when Maria had rarely been comforted herself.

But Natasha was different, Maria reminded herself. She’d dragged herself out of bed for Romanoff, who was still a member of her team, and, she hoped, her friend.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“They’re at the end of the hall on the left,” Clint supplied helpfully, and Maria nodded, taking a deep breath before she mounted the stairs two at a time.

“Hi, Maria,” Laura said, glancing over at her from her spot next to the bed. She sounded relieved, and that was a bit of a surprise. In her brief time knowing Laura, it seemed the young woman could handle anything that was thrown at her.

“Hey, you. How’s it going?”

There was a strange smell in the air, sweaty and strong. Maria could see Natasha on the bed, still in her suit and curled in on herself. Her face was wet with tears, her hair plastered to her forehead, and Laura gave Maria a sad smile.

“I’m just here with a very upset little girl,” Laura said, keeping her voice light and even. “I’ve been trying to make her feel better but she doesn’t seem to want my help.”

An array of pacifiers, diapers, a blanket and even a stuffed giraffe was at the end of the bed. Laura and Clint’s house had become a sort of respite for the Avengers, both during their battles with Ultron and after. Sometimes one of them would retreat to the house with their partner, like Tony with Pepper. Or they’d all come together just to relax and be themselves. Laura had learned to keep things in the house for all of them, diapers for Tony or blankets for Clint. Good movies for Steve and Maria. She let Tony keep his gadgets with him as long as the room stayed locked away from the prying hands and eyes of their children, and absolutely no playing with anything “blow-uppy” when Tony was little.

He seemed to actually like that arrangement.

“How old do you think she is?” Maria asked, low enough that hopefully Natasha wouldn’t be able to hear.

She was rattled. Nothing could be more earth-shaking than seeing Natasha Romanoff in urine-soaked clothes, lying on the bed in a fetal position.

“Two, maybe three,” Laura said. “A little younger than Tony, but not by much. Clint hovers around six, Nat isn’t anywhere near that right now.”

Maria swallowed hard, staring down at Natasha, who had her eyes squeezed shut as she trembled. “I don’t know what to do,” Maria admitted. “I don’t even know what age I am when I’m little.”

“Ah,” Laura said. “Well… just try to talk to her. Maybe she’ll trust you.”

“Natasha doesn’t trust anyone but herself.”

“She might surprise you,” Laura said with another sad smile. “Natasha? Maria’s here to see you, sweetie.”

“Hey, Nat,” she said, feeling awkward. She glanced at Laura, then decided it’d be easier to talk to Natasha if she was on her level.

Maria knelt down, ignoring the fact that Natasha had wet herself. They could get that cleaned up soon enough, whether Natasha liked it or not.

“Are you okay?” she asked, then nearly rolled her eyes when she realized how stupid she sounded. Of course Natasha wasn’t okay. How could anyone be okay after that?

Maria reached out and found one of the pacifiers at the end of the bed, a yellow one with a picture of a little brown bunny on it.

“You want to try this?” she asked, bringing it up to Natasha’s lips. “It might—“

“I don’t _need_ it!”

The pacifier was slapped away from her hand; Maria barely caught it in her other, not letting it fall to the floor. She looked up at Laura, who reached down and patted her shoulder, tipping her chin to encourage Maria to keep trying.

She’d read about this, Maria reminded herself. She’d read about littles dropping, about how sometimes they could be sent into their little space if they were tired or sad, upset or had gone through something traumatic. Or all of them put together. Reading the books had only taught Maria what would happen to her when she finally had a mommy or a daddy, an auntie or an uncle to take care of her. And what they should do. She read everything she could get her hands on, about how to be a good caregiver, how to tell someone what you need when you’re little.

Apparently Natasha didn’t think she needed a pacifier. But she needed something, or it was only going to get worse.

If Maria couldn’t comfort her as a caregiver, maybe she could at least treat the little girl the way Maria would want her auntie or daddy or mama to treat her.

“Nat, sweetie,” Maria said, as gently as she could. “What do you want? Do you want Mr. Giraffe?”

No answer, so she tried again.

 “How about a bath, would you like a bath to get all cleaned up? I bet that would feel good, to be all nice and clean. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, Natasha. But I want to help you feel better.”

There was silence. Maria was beginning to feel helpless, because tears were rolling down Natasha’s cheeks again and now she was chewing on her fingers, like Clint had said. And Maria realized that none of the books in the world would have prepared her for being faced with this.

“Please,” Maria pleaded, dipping her head so that she could meet Natasha’s bleary, confused eyes with her own. “Trust me. It’s going to be okay.”

Then Natasha moved. She moved, and one tentative, weak hand reached out and pawed at Maria’s – the hand holding the pacifier.

“Ah-ha,” she heard Laura breathe behind her, and Maria looked at Natasha in surprise.

“You want this, sweetheart?” she asked, holding it up. “Do you want Mr. Bunny?”

Natasha hesitated, then nodded. She’d wanted it all along, Maria thought, and brought it up to Natasha’s lips. Maria grinned, feeling a little triumphant, when her agent took the pacifier in her mouth.

And then it happened. Maria hadn’t even had time to let go of the pacifier, to move her hand away. She gasped, feeling the warmth spread along her fingertips, up her arm to her shoulders, the heat flooding her face and making the entire room around her feel hot, entirely too hot.

But more overwhelming than the heat of the room were the feelings that suddenly rushed through Maria. Her eyes met Natasha’s green ones again, slightly widened, and Maria knew that Natasha knew. For the rest of her life Maria Hill wouldn’t be able to explain it; it was, she would say, “like being punched in the stomach.” Looking over at Natasha, the woman lying on the bed in the headspace of a two-year-old, Maria felt nothing but love. Her hand finally moved away, and Maria closed her eyes, trying to make sense of the sadness, the joy, the confusion that roiled through her. But above and around it all was an intense desire to _protect_ Natasha. Maria wanted to gather Natasha up in her arms and carry her away from everything that had ever hurt her, and she knew what that meant.

She opened her eyes and saw Laura, an expression of knowing on her face.

“Did we just—“ Maria couldn’t finish her question.

She’d read about bonding, about how intense and sudden it could be. She had imagined it. Dreamed of it.

This was beyond her wildest dreams.

Laura nodded. “I think so.”

“But I’m… _I’m_ meant to be little.”

“You bonded, and _Natasha_ is little. I think you know, honey.”

“But I—“

“Commander Hill,” Laura said firmly, and Maria could immediately see why it was Clint that had been little, and not the other way around. “I know you must have a lot of questions but right now someone else needs you more than you need to understand.”

Maria looked back to Natasha. The… _little girl_ was staring up at her as she gave the pacifier a few, hesitant sucks, and Maria realized that she’d remember that look, that gaze of confusion mixed with hopeful trust in Natasha’s eyes for the rest of her life. She reached out her hand and ran it through Natasha’s hair.

“Hey, Nat,” Maria said again, haltingly. Well, they’d never get anywhere if she sounded like she was terrified, she thought, so she took another deep breath.

This time, her voice was cheerful. “You’ve had quite a day, huh? I bet I know one thing that’ll make you feel better. Can you guess what it is?”

Natasha tilted her head, then shook it.

Maria smiled a little, then leaned forward slightly. “A hug. Hugs always make me feel better, and I think you’d like one too. Hmm?”

One thing Maria had never prepared for in life was Natasha Romanoff nearly knocking her down in her haste for a hug; she managed to steady herself as Natasha wrapped her arms around Maria’s neck and clung to her. She was still crying, and Maria rubbed her back.

“Shh, shh,” she soothed. “You’re all right, I—I’m here, bunny.”

She held her for a minute, then wrinkled her nose. “Someone needs a bath,” she chided lightly. “What do you think?”

She felt Natasha shake her head, and Maria gave a low laugh. “No? Well… let’s see, okay? It might feel really nice.”

She didn’t know how, but Maria got to her feet while still holding onto Natasha, bringing the girl up into her arms and holding her close. “You’ll get a rash if you stay in your wet clothes, and I can’t have that happen. Baby bunnies need to be in soft clean pajamas, all dry and warm.”

“Nat keeps some shirts and things here,” Laura said from behind Maria as she turned towards the guest bathroom. “There should be something she can wear.”

“I’ll pay for your sheets,” Maria said quietly, noting the wet spot in the middle of the bed.

Laura just laughed and shooed Maria closer to the bathroom. “I have three children, and a husband who’s a slob sometimes _and_ a six-year-old sometimes. I know how to do laundry, quite well.”

“Right, okay,” Maria said, a little nervous now that she was stood in the bathroom with Natasha attached to her. But Laura just gave her a wink and shut the door, leaving them alone.

“Okay.” Maria tried to look at Natasha and instead got a face full of bright red hair. She snorted at herself, then eased so that she was sat on the toilet, and Natasha was standing up, held between her knees. Maria could reach the tub easily, so she quickly turned the knobs and stopped the drain, watching as the water began to rise.

“That should be warm enough for you in just a minute,” she said. Natasha just stared down at her, saying nothing. But, well, it wasn’t like she could say much with a pacifier in her mouth anyway, Maria told herself.

She hesitated, then lifted her hand up so she could cup Natasha’s cheek. It made her fingers tingle, made that strange warmth spread through her skin; and Natasha must have felt it too, because Maria heard her let out a small whimper, and she nuzzled her face into Maria’s palm.

“I’m going to help you out of these clothes,” Maria said gently, keeping her eyes locked on Natasha’s. “If you want me to go while you take your bath I can. But I can stay if you want that. Whatever _you_ want, bunny.”

Natasha’s voice was muffled when she spoke around the pacifier.

“You stay.”

Maria smiled. “I’ll stay.”

She was uneasy, unzipping Natasha’s tac suit; she hadn’t ever thought of seeing Natasha naked, and if she had, it certainly wouldn’t have been while Natasha was in her little state. And it _definitely_ wouldn’t have been while Natasha was in her little state, just after she had bonded with Maria, who was apparently not also little, as she’d grown up thinking.

Her life got stranger by the minute, Maria thought, as she peeled away the sticky fabric from Natasha and gently helped her step out of the uniform. The wet panties were next, then Natasha’s bra; Maria wadded everything up and tossed it into the hamper next to the door of the bathroom.

By now the tub was full, and Maria turned off the water, then took Natasha’s hand.

“All right, in you go,” she said.

She saw Natasha give the tub a doubtful glance, and Maria squeezed her hand. “C’mon,” she coaxed. “It’s warm, and look, I see some rubber duckies over there. Do you want to play with them?”

Natasha shook her head, but she stepped into the tub anyway and lowered herself into the water. She kept her legs up, one arm wrapped around her knees, and Maria bit her lip, trying not to panic.

She’d always thought she was supposed to be little. Wasn’t that how it worked? She hadn’t had a mother, and her father… had been less than one. Wasn’t she meant to be held and rocked, soothed and protected?

But now, Natasha was sat in front of her, her eyes downcast, shrunk into herself. It was shocking to see, because Natasha Romanoff had always been, to Maria, braver than most. Even after Maximoff had fucked with her head, she had still gotten up and helped her team take down Ultron. She wasn’t broken. Maria was pretty sure Natasha could never actually be broken. But she was bent, more than a little lost, and instead of feeling as if she needed to be comforted, Maria was struck with the truth of their situation.

She wasn’t little. She and Natasha had bonded. They were meant for each other, and _Natasha_ was little.

And as confused as Maria was, right then it didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was trying to get Natasha to smile. To interact. To trust and feel safe. _That_ was the comfort Maria needed.

“Let’s wash your hair first,” Maria said, hoping her voice was calmer than she actually felt. She reached over for a cup that rested on the tub, probably for moments like this, and smiled at Natasha. “Do you want to wet your hair or do you want me to do it?”

Natasha hesitated, then poked at Maria with one damp finger, and Maria chuckled, moving to finally kneel next to the tub. “All right then, hold your head back so we don’t get anything in your eyes.”

She ran her fingers through Natasha’s hair, watching as the locks deepened in color with the water; she took her time, using it to gently rub Natasha’s head, hoping to soothe her. It seemed to be working; Natasha’s body was no longer stiff but relaxed, and her eyes had drifted shut.

“Don’t go to sleep, sweetheart,” Maria warned anyway. “If you fall asleep in the bath you’ll wake up and be an old prune. I don’t think you’d like that, would you?”

She was quiet, and that was worrying. Natasha didn’t talk that much anyway, but she’d been more willing than she’d used to be, opening up to her friends, and Maria had counted herself lucky to be in that group. Even if she wasn’t as close to Natasha as Steve or Clint.

Truth be told, Maria had thought if Steve was going to have a second chance at bonding with someone, it was going to be Natasha.

She’d been wrong about a lot of things, it seemed.

There was Johnson’s Baby Shampoo on the ledge of the tub, and Maria grinned. Laura thought of everything. She squirted some into her palm and began to work it into Natasha’s hair.

“Maria?”

Her hands stilled. “Yes, sweetheart?”

There was a pause. Then it came, quiet and soft, searching.

“… Mama?”

It was strange, how much a person’s life could change with just one word. Natasha Romanoff had called Maria Hill “Mama.”

In an instant, Maria’s dreams about being someone’s little were gone. No longer could she think that there was going to be someone to scoop her up and love her and give her the childhood that she’d never had, so many years ago. Once again her quick mind was conjuring up thoughts of diapers and pacifiers, of blankets and picture books, cartoons on the television and lullabies sung to the warm, soft weight of a little girl.

But this time, life had thrown a wrench in the works and in her imaginings, it was Maria rocking Natasha to sleep.

And she was 100% more than okay with this.

She brought herself out of her reverie and saw that Natasha was staring at her, and Maria resumed her washing, willing her hands not to shake with the excitement she felt.

She gave the only answer she knew to give.

“Yes, bunny.”

She didn’t know what it meant from now on, but Maria knew that if Natasha needed her as a mama, there wasn’t a possibility of Maria not being there.

“Scared. She was mean.”

“I know,” Maria soothed, and leaned forward over the tub to kiss Natasha’s forehead. “But I’m here, and you’re going to be all right. I’m going to work really hard to make sure nobody hurts you ever again, okay?”

There was something in Natasha’s gaze that didn’t quite seem little-girlish, almost as if the woman was overpowering the two-year-old headspace in her desperation to trust. That was fine by Maria. She began to rinse Natasha’s hair, shielding her eyes with her hand and wondering just when she’d learned that that was something she ought to do. Maybe she’d read it one of her books.

“Promise?”

“No one should ever lie to baby bunnies,” Maria said, and tapped Natasha’s nose gently with her finger. “And I’m not going to. I promise, Natasha.”

Natasha was still watching her, as Maria found some lavender baby wash (Laura really _did_ think of everything) and put some onto a cloth. Maria hesitated, wondering if she ought to ask Natasha if she wanted to wash herself, but she still seemed a little unfocused, and the pacifier hadn’t left her mouth.

So she made quick work of bathing Natasha, especially since the water was beginning to cool, and soon Natasha was shivering.

“Time to get you all dry and snuggly,” Maria said, unplugging the drain and standing up to grab a fluffy white towel hanging on the bar. “Let me help you.”

She dried Natasha’s hair as best she could, then wrapped the towel around her, rubbing her hands up and down Natasha’s arms to try to warm her. Natasha’s head was still down, but Maria was surprised when she shuffled over and rested against Maria’s chest. Maria kissed her damp hair, breathing in the baby scent.

It was oddly relaxing.

“Up, Mama?”

“You want me to pick you up?” Maria asked in surprise. She’d already carried Natasha once before, but it was startling to hear her actually ask for it.

She felt Natasha nod vigorously against her chest. “Up, up, please.”

Thank goodness she worked out, Maria thought, as she slipped her hands under Natasha and lifted her up. Not that Natasha was heavy, and she was small enough that she fit perfectly in Maria’s arms. But it would have been embarrassing if Maria had dropped her.

Laura must have been busy while they were in the bathroom, Maria thought, taking in the clean sheets and blankets on the bed. Another towel laid across one end next to a bottle of baby powder and a diaper. A pair of sweatpants and a well-worn tee-shirt were folded up on the other side of the towel.

“Let’s get your shirt on,” Maria said, setting Natasha down in front of the bed and picking it up. Natasha allowed Maria to tug it over her head and then gently pull her arms through; Maria leaned over and kissed her forehead again.

“That’s a good bunny. Now let’s, um, let’s get your diaper on.”

“Don’t need it,” Natasha said quickly.

Maria bit her lower lip, then nodded. “You might not,” she agreed. “But if you do, and I have to give you another a bath while you’re half-asleep, I bet that will make you a little grumpy.”

Natasha looked down at the diaper, then back up at Maria.

“… lot grumpy.”

Maria laughed. “Yes, a lot grumpy. We’ll just try it tonight,” she reassured Natasha, because she knew eventually Natasha would come out of her little headspace. Eventually they would have to figure things out.

But after tonight. When morning came, probably, a time for long awkward talks.

But for now, Natasha laid across the towel with her legs dangling over the edge of the bed, and Maria opened up the baby powder. She sprinkled it a little too liberally because it made both her and Natasha cough; she’d use less next time. If there was a next time.

Maria had never diapered a baby, and she’d also never diapered a little. But there really wasn’t any way to get it wrong, she supposed, unless you put the damn thing on backwards. She coaxed Natasha into shifting so that Maria could slide the diaper under her rear end, then one, two quick movements of her hands and the tapes were fastened, and Natasha was lying below her on the bed, clad in only a diaper and a teeshirt, sucking on a pacifier.

Her eyes were half-closed and she seemed, to Maria, peaceful.

It was the cutest thing Maria Hill thought she’d ever seen.

She reached for Natasha’s sweatpants but was stopped by the little girl’s hand on hers.

“Don’t want ‘em, Mama. Hot.”

“You have to have something on your legs, baby bunny. It’ll be cooler in the morning and I don’t want you to get sick.”

“No pants,” Natasha insisted. “Blankie?”

Maria frowned a little but gave in. Natasha had been through so much already, and was still heavily into her headspace. In the grand scheme of things, fighting over pants wasn’t a battle Maria really wanted to engage in.

“All right,” she relented. “Let’s get you under the covers then. You need to sleep.”

“No!” Natasha’s voice was still muffled around the pacifier, but Maria recognized fear when she heard it, and she reached down to pull Natasha up on the bed, sitting next to her and holding her in her arms.

“Don’t want to sleep. She’ll get me.”

Maria’s confused gaze softened, and she lifted Natasha up into her lap. “No one’s going to get you,” she assured Natasha. Glancing around the room, she spied the spacious rocking chair that was in one corner. She’d have to ask Tony if he’d had it specially made, because a caregiver and their little could fit in it perfectly.

She grabbed a blanket in one hand, then lifted Natasha up and shifted them both to the rocking chair, pulling Natasha close to her and draping the blanket over them both. Maria began to rock Natasha in her arms, as easily as if she’d been born to do that exact thing.

“Just rest,” Maria said, kissing the top of Natasha’s head. “I’m right here.”

She wasn’t sure how long she had rocked; time seemed to stand still as Natasha’s body grew heavier with first relaxation, then finally sleep. She snored a little, the pacifier drooping slightly out of her mouth with each breath, and Maria found that so infinitely adorable she couldn’t help but grin and snuggle Natasha even closer to her.

She was still cuddling Natasha and rocking, every now and then softly kissing her head or her cheek, when Maria heard the door creak open, and Laura peeked inside.

“Well,” she said quietly with a smile, coming in to sit on the edge of the bed. “This is a lot better than what was happening thirty minutes ago.”

“Yeah.” Natasha shifted in her arms with a whimper, and Maria shushed her gently, reaching down to pat her bottom until she seemed soothed. She looked over at Laura.

“You have a lot of questions, don’t you?”

“I was supposed to be little.”

“Maria,” Laura said gently. “When’s the last time you were little?”

She didn’t have to think about it. Maria looked away from Laura, back to Natasha, sleeping easily in her arms as she still rocked.

“I’ve never… actually been.”

“So what made you think you were?”

“I thought that was how things were meant to go,” Maria said honestly. “At first I thought I couldn’t be little, because they were weak. I thought something had made them that way, and I wasn’t like that.”

“Hmm,” Laura said, leaning back on her hands against the bed. “And what changed your mind?”

Maria grinned. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“My husband is an Avenger; I’ve learned to believe a lot of things I thought were unbelievable.”

“Touché.  Jemma Simmons.”

“Agent Simmons?” Laura said, sounding confused, and Maria laughed softly.

“The scientist, yeah. Little in both senses of the word. She’s got a brilliant mind; it amazes me how much she knows.”

She’d been astonished the first time she’d met the little “Doctor Spitfire,” as Tony liked to call her. Jemma was fervent in her desire to be a good SHIELD agent, confident in her abilities and her contribution to the team.

“And she’s not afraid to tell us how stupid we’re being. Which happens a lot, you know.”

“Oh, I know,” Laura said with a grin, and Maria matched it. They both knew how hard Maria’s job was, how difficult it was for her to send her agents out on ops that would prove to be fruitless, or worse, deadly. Maria was pretty sure Clint told Laura how hard – and how much – Maria worked, because there was a strange “no business” rule at the homestead when everyone gathered just to relax. Which had always been a little difficult, because sometimes Maria wasn’t sure she even remembered how to relax.

“Then one morning I stumbled in on her and Agent Morse in the lab, and that’s how I found out both that Jemma was little, and that she and Bobbi were dating.”

“I guess if you’re going to find out, might as well find out everything.”

Natasha whimpered again, and Maria resumed her absentminded patting, feeling Natasha’s diaper crinkle against the motion of her hand.

“Jemma’s around five, I think. I don’t really see her when she’s little but I know her and Bobbi are hopelessly, sickeningly in love. And Jemma’s one of the most put-together people I know. So when I realized she was little it kind of messed up all my preconceived ideas about it.”

“But you still thought you were little.”

Maria nodded, nuzzling her face into Natasha’s hair for a minute, letting the slow movement of the rocker soothe her as well as the little girl in her arms.

“My mom was dead. My dad… didn’t care. The motherless child is kind of the perfect candidate for being little, right?”

“Sometimes,” Laura said. “Not always. You said you’d never been little.”

She’d tried. She’d bought a blankie. A couple of stuffed animals. She’d even tried a diaper, once. But _nothing_ had ever felt right, to Maria. She’d read about what being in little space was like, had seen it in Tony and Clint. It had always confused her, not knowing why she couldn’t slip into that small-ness, even on her own.

“I thought maybe I just hadn’t found the right person.”

“Want to know what I think?”

“You’re the calm voice in this wilderness that’s my life right now,” Maria joked, and Laura chuckled.

“Here’s what I think.” She leaned forward and rested her hand on Maria’s, giving it a squeeze.

“Sometimes it’s the motherless children who need to be big, who make the best mommies—“

“Mama,” Maria corrected, then flushed pink.

“Mamas. And aunties. Because when someone needs comfort, they know what it’s like not to have that. And they’d go through hell and back to make sure the one that needs them never has to feel alone. They’d drive to a farm in the middle of the night because someone they care about is having trouble.”

Maria took a deep, shuddering breath, feeling the tears rush to her eyes at Laura’s words. “Is that why you called me?”

“Partly,” Laura said, her gentle smile turning into something of a smirk.

“Partly?”

“Clint and I have known Natasha for years. She’s been a part of our family since before Lila was born. And you know she’s a woman of action rather than words. So we’ve gotten very good at paying attention to what she does.”

“What… did she do?”

“Nothing much, really. But it’s very easy to notice how someone’s eyes light up when another person is mentioned, or when they walk into a room. If their cheeks turn pink every time they see that person. And how even though they don’t talk much, sometimes they end up talking _a lot_ about the other person.”

She didn’t know how to respond to that; Maria looked down at the sleeping young woman in her arms, and then back up at Laura. Natasha had talked about her. A lot, apparently. And did her eyes really light up when Maria was mentioned?

Maria wasn’t sure she knew anyone who had that reaction when they heard about her. And usually when she walked into a room it was to yell at someone for messing up an op. Nobody was glad to see her then.

“And we noticed you, too.”

“Me?” Maria said incredulously. “Surely I’m not that obvious.”

“More obvious than Nat,” Laura said with a snort. “Calling during every op ‘just to check up’ on the team, but somehow you always end up talking to Natasha. Every time we’re all here, you and Nat are sat next to each other before the night’s over. You work too hard, Maria, but when you’re around Natasha you have fun. Clint and I have been waiting forever for you two to get a clue.”

“Didn’t know there was a clue to get,” Maria grumbled. The pacifier had fallen out of Natasha’s mouth; her brow was creased unhappily even in sleep. Maria quickly slipped it back in between the little girl’s lips and patted her back.

“So you see,” Laura said softly, “You _hadn’t_ met the right person. You were looking in the wrong direction.”

She was tired. The events of the night, of being woken from her sleep and rushing to Clint’s farm out of sheer panic for Natasha – oh. _Oh_.

Maria’s arms tightened around her, and she sniffed, unashamed when a tear slipped from her eye and down her cheek.

“I _don’t_ have a clue what I’m doing. But… I love her, Laura.”

“I know, honey,” Laura said. She stood up and rested her hand on Maria’s shoulder.

“ _That’s_ what you’re supposed to do.”

The door clicked shut a little more loudly than Laura probably intended as she left, and Natasha stirred, rubbing her cheek against Maria’s chest. She was still clearly in her little space, Maria thought; as nervous as she was about what may await them tomorrow, that only served to make her feel even more protective.

“I’m here, my baby bunny,” she murmured into Natasha’s ear. “I’m here.”

She must have fallen asleep in the rocking chair, because when Maria opened her eyes next it was daylight, Natasha was gone, and her back hurt like hell. She could hear Lila giggling happily downstairs, and it made Maria smile even as she grunted and stood up, feeling joints she didn’t even know she had pop in retaliation.

She found the source of Lila’s enjoyment upon reaching the bottom of the stairs: the little girl and Natasha were sat in the floor of the living room, surrounded by what seemed to be a million Lego. Natasha was still in her tee-shirt, thankfully now wearing pants. She looked up when she heard Maria descending the steps, offering her the smallest of smiles and a slight wave, before turning back to building Rey’s speeder.

Maria couldn’t remember Natasha ever being a fan of Star Wars, even though _she_ was…

Huh.

Maria watched them play together for a moment; maybe this had been why Lila found it so easy to relate to Natasha, and vice versa. But Nat’s eyes were clear; she was definitely back into her “usual,” big headspace.

It was both a relief, and a disappointment.

“It’s about time,” Clint muttered to her as she walked into the kitchen. Laura swatted his arm; Maria flipped him off – one of her favorite signs when it came to Barton. She glanced around to make sure the kids hadn’t seen, but Cooper was absorbed in his video game, and Lila was still playing with Natasha, who was now showing her how to build a spaceship.

“Breakfast?” Laura asked, balancing little Nathaniel on her hip as she flipped what smelled deliciously like pancakes on the stove. He babbled at Maria over his mother’s shoulder, and she grinned, playing peekaboo for a few seconds before stepping back.

“That’d be great, thanks. I’m going to get some fresh air first though.”

The morning was cold as Maria leaned against the porch railing and stared out at the sun rising; she wrapped her arms around herself and tried to make sense of everything that had changed in her life in less than twenty-four hours.

She had so many questions, and so few answers.

She startled when a cup of coffee appeared in front of her; she accepted it gratefully, wrapping her hands around the cup and absorbing its warmth.

“Thanks, Laura.”

“You’re welcome,” Natasha said.

Maria looked at her. “Hey…”

“Hey.” Natasha leaned with her back against the railing, next to Maria. “So.”

“So.”

“Last night happened.”

“Do you… remember any of it?”

“Yeah. Clint says you usually do, but that it might be a bit fuzzy.”

“Oh.”

Maria kept looking out at the horizon over Clint’s farm, breathing in the clean air and listening to the birds waking up and calling to each other. Starting the day anew, without any expectations or worries about what might lay ahead.

“I think I’m going to move out of the Tower,” she said suddenly. She felt Natasha’s body stiffen.

“Why?”

“I work for SHIELD. I live with the Avengers. I need a space that’s just mine. Somewhere that doesn’t constantly remind me of what I do and why I have to do it. Some place away from everything.”

“Everything,” Natasha repeated slowly, and Maria looked at her.

“I didn’t mean you,” she said.

“You didn’t want a little.”

Maria set her coffee cup down and reached out to Natasha, taking her hand and turning the young woman so that they were facing each other.

She’d thought Natasha had been asleep last night while she was talking to Laura, but maybe even when she was little Natasha couldn’t completely let go of her Black Widow instincts, her need to know everything to protect herself.

“I thought I wanted to be little. But fate or whatever it is that decided you’re my soulmate made me think differently, last night.” She reached up and touched Natasha’s cheek; this time, Natasha didn’t nuzzle into her touch, but the guarded expression mostly left her face, and she kept her eyes on Maria.

“I love you, Nat,” Maria said. “I know this is as confusing for you as it is for me, but I’m willing to work it out and see what happens. You’re little, and so I want a little, because I want _you_.”

 “I didn’t know I was little, not until she—I don’t know what happened, but it’s like it was just there. I didn’t _want_ to be little. I’m not weak.”

“No, you’re not,” Maria agreed, slipping her arm around Natasha’s waist and drawing Natasha to her. “You’re the bravest woman I know… and a very adorable little girl.”

A faint blush appeared on Natasha’s cheeks, and she rested her head on Maria’s shoulder.

“I love you, too. I do know that.”

She knew how hard it was for Natasha to say that, even with the intervention of fate. Natasha Romanoff hadn’t been trained to love, and Maria knew it was no insignificant thing, for Natasha to open herself up to love, to loving _her._

Maria kissed the top of her head, then Natasha shifted up in her arms, and their lips met. A different kind of warmth spread through Maria then, no less strong than what she had felt the night before. It was as if two halves of herself – Maria who was Commander Maria Hill, director of SHIELD, and Maria who was Natasha’s mama, her protector and her comfort, had joined into a whole.

It _was_ love, she thought to herself. Completely.

“Will you let me come visit?” Natasha asked when they separated, though she stayed in Maria’s arms. “When you move into your new place, I mean.”

“I expect you to,” Maria said matter-of-factly, knowing that now she was blushing as she grinned. “I figured we would need a few dates before I ask you to move in with me.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow at her and Maria winked. Natasha didn’t need to know yet that she was already planning out what colors she’d want to paint a nursery.

They were quiet a few more moments before Natasha spoke.

“Mama?”

Maria looked at her in surprise, then smiled at the wide green eyes looking at her, trusting and so full of love.

“Yes, my baby bunny.”

Natasha shuffled her feet, her face reddening even more. “M’wet.”

“Natasha, have you been wet all morning?” Maria exclaimed, alarmed at the idea.

But Natasha shook her head and bit her lip shyly. “Just a few minutes.”

Maria nodded. A quick glance down revealed that Natasha’s pants weren’t soaked through, so that could only mean…

“Are you wearing your diaper, bunny?”

Natasha nodded slowly. Maria was surprised, and yet not, that Natasha had decided to keep wearing it instead of changing out of it as soon as she woke up that morning.

She took Natasha’s hand again. “Let’s go upstairs and get you changed, all right? Do you… want to just put on your underwear?”

Natasha hesitated. “No,” she finally said. “But can we get diapers? White is so _boring_. I… might like princess ones.”

“We can get princess ones.” She led Natasha back into the house, giving Laura and Clint a beaming grin as she and Natasha started up the stairs to the guest bedroom.

“Maria?”

“Yes, sweetheart.”

“If you have a nursery at your new place… I like yellow.” Natasha grinned impishly at Maria, who had stopped dead in her tracks and was staring at Natasha in shock.

“And I want a stuffed hippo.”

All Maria could do was laugh.


End file.
